Eventide
by artypendragon
Summary: In which Merlin is weak in the knees for his king, Arthur is a demonstrable git, and they watch the sun set over Camelot like the old, married couple they've always been.


Gaius was going to blow his lid one of these days, Merlin thought as he hurried down the corridor to the North Tower. The court physician running errands for a man he'd raised as a son; perish the thought! No matter that the man in question was the new king of Camelot. When Gaius did aim his ire at his apprentice-but-more-the-king's-dogsbody, it'd all be Arthur's fault. Merlin ought to warn Arthur.

"Has he told you where I'm s'posed to meet him?" he'd asked. Gaius had shot him a withering look — or perhaps Merlin was projecting, or perhaps Gaius genuinely _was_ a bit miffed at the two of them, who knew with Gaius, really, the Man with the Perpetually-Raised Eyebrow — and said, "The king informed me that you'd know where to meet him," which of course was a load of bollocks, but converting that sentiment to speech would be self-destruction of the very worst kind. So Merlin had taken a shot in the dark (sent up a spell to the ceiling to paint a live map of Camelot).

He took the stairs two at once (he could've done three or four or seven if he were prepared to commit treason for the sake of saving time) and when he finally burst onto the top level of the tower he was, quite unfortunately, panting.

"Took you long enough," Arthur said, not even bothering to turn and look at him. Git.

Merlin huffed and wheezed. You didn't tend to build your body as stockily as tree trunks like Percival did if you were going to rely on stealthy sorcery to get your job done (Merlin had lazy days, everyone knew, moving on) and never had Merlin had to run up nine spiral flights of stairs before. "Gaius is cross with me and it's all thanks to you," he said instead. Arthur continued to gaze out over the battlement, all regal with a hand on a merlon and a foot on the adjoining crenel, as if he hadn't been gleefully aiming halved grapes at Merlin for kicks (what else) just this morning.

"I'm sure he'll understand that I had urgent need of you."

"What are you even staring at?"

"My kingdom, idiot. You can see until the very end of the lower town, _far_ away, almost at the horizon. Or you would were your eyesight not absolutely shit."

"Oh, there's the kingly Arthur I know and love." Merlin's eyesight was just fine. The one grape he'd let touch him had been to humour Arthur, who'd whooped as if he'd conquered Caerleon's kingdom. _Git_.

Arthur turned a smug eye upon him. "You love me?"

"Don't be daft, you've always known. Anyway, I've left Gaius to handle the marjoram and fenugreek all on his own; you had better have a good reason for making him your messenger pigeon."

"Oh, yes." Arthur beckoned him over. Merlin, having regained his breath, joined him.

"I've been thinking," Arthur said. Merlin snorted — sorry, sorry, it was just that you could almost see the wheels turning in Arthur's head whenever he put his brain to use and it was hilarious; all right, Arthur didn't actually deserve this mockery, he was a brilliant strategist and frequently routed Merlin at chess, but also _halved fucking grapes_ — and evaded Arthur's elbow poke efficiently. "I've been thinking I need to give you a proper title and everything," Arthur continued.

"No," Merlin said promptly, and turned to leave.

Arthur grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Merlin struggled to get his arm back from the king's disgustingly strong grip and failed. Arthur's hand slid down to Merlin's palm, eliminating any leftover need Merlin had to extricate his limb from Arthur's personal space. He interlaced Merlin's fingers with his own.

"I'd like to recognise all that you've done for me," Arthur said softly. "Even if you didn't do it for the credit."

"So you want to humiliate me in front of fifty ancient nobles, two hundred knights, Gwen, Gaius, and all the servants?"

"I'd call it something fancier on the proclamation, but yes."

"Why don't you first allow the use of sorcery without execution in Camelot and _then_ stuff me in poncey robes? I've been betraying your kingdom left and right, as you may know, and I'm tired of being a filthy criminal."

The evening sun's rays chose that very moment to strike the git's handsome face, and even Merlin had to take a breath at the beauty of Arthur smiling straight at him without barriers like Gwaine's catcalling in the way. Fucking hell.

"That'll happen, too," Arthur said, bringing Merlin's hand to his mouth. Merlin went red despite himself when Arthur kissed his knuckles as if Merlin were a princess or a lady, completely living up to the comparison. "Regardless, I invited you up here —" _invited—_ "to watch the sun set alongside me."

What a tosser! He knew Merlin went weak in the knees at the mere hint of romantic tosh from him.

"Fine," Merlin grumbled.

They silently stood beside each other, watching the sky turn from orange to pink, the sparse clouds dotting it blushing crimson. Already people in the town below were lighting street lanterns and preparing for darkness. The scene was serene. It was as if Merlin and Arthur were watching something completely separate from the two of them.

"I cherish you, too, you know," Arthur said after a few minutes. "I know I don't say it as often as you do."

Merlin squeezed his hand in acknowledgement. "If you _really_ loved me, however," he said anyway because he wanted to enjoy the sight of Arthur getting nervous for a second, "you wouldn't do the proclamation or make me stand in front of all those people."

Arthur laughed; it was a brilliant sound, and never failed to fill Merlin's heart with limitless joy. If only Arthur were this happy all the time.

"I'm doing it precisely because I _really_ love you, clod," Arthur said, rolling his eyes.

"Ass."

But instead of the expected elbow jab, Arthur just pressed his lips to Merlin's hand again and held it to his cheek, closing his eyes against the very sun he'd wanted to see in favour of focusing all his attention elsewhere. Merlin couldn't help it — he himself kissed the hand covering his.

"Idiot," scoffed the man who'd extended the romantic gesture in the first place. But Merlin saw him smile once more.

Git.


End file.
